


The Dragon's Hoard

by HappyLeech



Series: MagicWatch [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Dragon AU, Dragons, Gen, Hanzo "Get out of my cave" Shimada and Genji "PEOPLE ARE COOL" Shimada, Multi, No Smut, Ratings and Warnings to change, supernatural beings au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-02 23:50:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8688373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyLeech/pseuds/HappyLeech
Summary: In a world filled with magic, giants and shifters and immortals, dragons are myths. Stories to scare or charm children, and nothing more. But as Jesse McCree, Tekhartha Zenyatta, and Satya Vaswani are quick to find out, maybe that isn't the truth...Title by barid-bel-medar on tumblr, RE: an ask box meme





	1. Hanzo/Satya/Jesse/Genji/Zenyatta

In a world of technology, of super soldiers and hard light cities, of medical miracles and omnic uprisings, Hanamura was a city out of place. Not small, but not grand, populated by young and old, traditional and modern. A city where, while there are the typical modern cars and trucks, it was more common to see the old junkers of the 21st century on the roads, teenagers piled in the back of old trucks as they rip around side streets. Lovingly repaired motorcycles with reproduction tires, bicycles with all the trimmings but none of the hover technology.

On the outskirts of the city of Hanamura, there was also a collection of mountains. Hiking trails, ponds and small lakes, biking and off-road vehicle paths litter the forests surrounding. Yet the peaks were left relatively untouched. The uneducated would assume that the mountains were historical sites or national parks, but the locals know better than that.

For inside of these mountains resided a pair of dragon gods, and even those who do not believe they exist believe the legends. The younger was a trickster God who would take human appearance for fun; a young man, often with green hair and piercing eyes, who traded tidbits for tales if you could find him. The elder was a more malicious God, and was not to be approached even if the lure of power was great, for he had attempted to kill the younger. 

Now, this was where the legends split—some said that the Elder wished for more power when he attacked, some said it was out of jealousy, some said it was for money, and one restaurant in the city swore it was all for the sake of a good meal. 

 

Hanzo knew they were all equally wrong. 

Hanzo also did not care enough to take human form to travel into town and correct the tale-tellers, and very few of those who found a way into his cave system left, so correcting the tales would be a pointless task. 

He had once believed that the truth was a matter of honour, of family pride and duty. 

The truth was more a matter of manipulation and deception. 

If not for the Witch of the Woods, far on the outskirts of Hanamura, Genji would have died. Hanzo did not believe he would be able to live with himself if Genji had perished. 

And so, it was an unremarkable morning on the outskirts of Hanamura when Hanzo heard the tell-tale sound of a bicycle bell—a proper bike, with wheels that touched the ground—a sound that heralded the arrival of his brother in his human guise. With a grunt, he stretched, slowly unwinding as he moved from his sleeping chamber to what Genji jokingly called his ‘dining room’. 

Which was ridiculous—Hanzo didn’t eat humans, just killed those who sought him out, looking for power and revenge. Not that there were many skeletons– legends seemed to be enough to keep trouble makers away. And the latest visitor he’d had was a lost 5-year-old, and even he was not that heartless.

“Hanzo! Brother, come to town with me– I’m meeting the most intriguing omnic this afternoon, and I think you would like him!” The green-haired menace was bouncing on all too human legs, watching expectantly as Hanzo entered the room with a hum. 

“Why? Once I have seen one omnic, or human, I have seen them all. They surely can not all be as remarkable as you make them out to be.” He huffed, Genji’s hair ruffling in the self-made breeze. Genji laughed, then reached up to pat Hanzo on the nose. 

“Come on, they aren't all bad—Zenyatta was a monk from up north who's traveling around now, and that ramen shop has a new server who's really cute. I bet you'd like her, brother.” He jumped back with a laugh as Hanzo growled and shook his head, snapping teeth harmlessly over his brother’s head. Genji waved goodbye as he grabbed his bike from the mouth of the cave, taking one last second to try and persuade the elder to join him. “Think about it Hanzo! Maybe I'll see you later!~”

Hanzo huffed again, shaking his head as he listened to his brother ride the bike down and away from the mouth of his cave system, before considering the bones in the room. All the talk of humans made him consider the litter with a critical eye. 

It would be nice to get rid of them—he occasionally stepped on one or two, tracking bone dust all throughout his home, and he did have wards up now to keep any humans who were looking for him out…Not to mention that aforementioned 5-year-old had been terrified by their presence.

But that was a task for another time, he decided, moving with care from the dining room to one of the smaller rooms. Inside he kept his books—gifts left for him by those who still believed, from Genji, from the Witch—and it was with a hum that he shed his natural form into something smaller and more frail. 

It wasn’t as though Hanzo truly hated taking human form, it was just an inconvenience most of the time. But his books were all human sized, and he dreaded the thought of accidentally shredding one with his claws if he attempted to read in his natural form. 

And so Hanzo, of Clan Shimada, settled himself in a nest of blankets, clothing, and fabric, perched an old pair of reading glasses on his nose, and opened an outdated book on theoretical physics.

* * *

Satya Vaswani was not having a good day. Her flight into the Hanamura area had been delayed three times until Vishkar had found a more suitable airline for her to fly on, the car she’d taken to her hotel was filthy and had actual _wheels_ , and her hotel appeared to be nothing like what she’d been informed it’d be.

The slim woman looked around the lobby with palpable distaste, before gliding forward to the front desk to check in. 

“Vaswani, reservation made with the Vishkar Corporation,” she informed the woman manning the desk, as she tapped one perfectly manicured nail on the handle of her suitcase. She was never one to normally do more than make sure her nails were clean and perfectly trimmed, but one of her coworkers had insisted on paying for her to get them painted with the newest, top of the line nanobot infused colours. 

Perhaps to apologize for what had happened to her in Rio, for she had no one she’d consider a friend in Vishkar. 

Satya was pulled from her thoughts as the receptionist made a kind of aha noise, selecting something on her touch screen with a beaming smile. It did nothing to lessen the impassive look on Satya’s face, however. 

“Ah, yes Vaswani-san. There you are…the king suite. Please, take a seat and someone will be here shortly to take your luggage and show you to your room.” The receptionist motioned to the side, where several long benches sat. 

Satya huffed, but sat as directed, taking the time to watch the steady stream of people and omnics walking by. Few walked by if any note, although her eye was drawn to what looked to be a member of the Shambali as he left the building, bowing his metallic head in greeting as he passed the receptionist. 

By the time the bellboy arrived, Satya had tired of people watching, and instead opened her phone to her dossier to read and reread her orders.

 

_‘Reports of dragon sighted in the area. Investigate and keep us updated. Possibility it's a luck spirit, a tanuki—capture and contain if possible. Good hunting, Vaswani.’_

 

Satya sniffed. As if Vishkar needed another luck spirit under their control. 

“Vaswani-san?” She looked up to the bellboy and nodded to him once, sliding her phone into a pocket in her suit. “I’ll take your bags, if you’d please.”

She stood with a sigh, motioning to her suitcase, letting him take it and lead her towards the elevator. Her personal bag—the one holding her Vishkar credentials and her tablet—stayed on her arm, however. Satya would not be letting that leave her sight, not after the fiasco in Rio. 

The hotel had updated and modernized the best it could whilst keeping a certain old-world charm, but the elevator—something of Vishkar constructs, Satya realized as the doors slid shut—simply didn’t fit. The opposing styles of the wood and the glowing hard light elevator grated on her all the way to her room—one of two located on the top floor. The bellboy handed her the room key, placed her suitcase just inside of the door, and left with a bow as Satya looked down the hall with a frown.

“Tch. Annoying.” Satya muttered, tapping her electric blue nails on her prosthetic as she turned and walked into her room. It was clean, airy, and Satya took some satisfaction in the fact that Vishkar’s garish glowing hard light constructs appeared to be limited to the elevator.

Once the door was closed and locked and she’d taken the necessary precautions to sweep for bugs, Satya sat at the desk, looked out the window, and sighed. 

Perhaps the receptionist would know of somewhere to eat, and then she could start asking around about this…dragon.

* * *

Jesse McCree knew he was in deep shit. 

If there was one thing, one rule that he was actually going to respect in Overwatch, it was that when the locals tell you not to go somewhere, they usually have a reason for it. So, the fact that he was currently racing amidst the underbrush near the peak of a mountain that he really wasn’t supposed to be on was an issue.

If he’d had the time to stop and look at his situation, this is what he’d take note of: Coms were cut, Talon forces far outnumbered him, there was no backup headed his way, and he was on the mountain that the locals in Hanamura had warned him about. 

Jesse could say, however, that his one saving grace was that none of them had silver bullets in their chambers… yet. The minute one grunt was able to fire off to the HQ which Overwatch agent they had cornered, he knew he was hooped. 

A bullet whizzed past his face, and he cursed as he changed his path, swinging to the right instead of the left. How was it this one mountain, this patch of forest, seemed so never ending?

Another shot—a sniper in the trees, but not Amelie—and Jesse rolled to the side as the bullet punched clean through his shoulder. Still, it wasn’t a silver bullet, and he pulled himself up with a curse, only to take a shot in the back. 

This one wasn’t from the sniper—from one of Talons heavily modified assault rifles instead—and it hurt like a son of a bitch even with his body armour. If they were close enough to hit him even when he’d been rolling and running like a pup, then he was in serious shit.

He crashed through the underbrush, trying to leave behind the chatter and hollering, and dove into a dark opening, a cave. It wasn’t not particularly well hidden, the mouth wide and gaping, but there was enough cover for Jesse to take a few pot shots, take down as many Talon agents with Peacekeeper before he was inevitably forced to use Deadeye.

The chatter grew louder, but no one came close enough for Jesse to get a good shot, and he tentatively maneuvered his serape, now with one more bullet hole, to cover the entrance and exit wound on his shoulder.

“Goddamnit—“ he hissed as he pushed the fabric against the entrance wound, wishing not for the first time that he carried biotic emitters like the old Soldier back at base. It wouldn’t have healed the whole thing in one shot, but it would have been enough to stem the bleeding until he could get back to the city below and radio for evac.

“Who are you? How did you get in here?” So distracted by the bleeding, and the growing bruise on his back, Jesse didn’t notice the man who was standing behind him until he spoke. With a yelp, he spun, drawing his revolver and aiming it at the man. 

The man in question looked unconcerned by the threat of Jesse’s gun, narrowing his eyes as he stared at Jesse. “What are you doing in here? Leave!” he demanded, and Jesse nearly snorted.

“I’m currently hiding from people who want to shoot me, and who will shoot you too if you don’t get out of sight, you idiot!” he hissed, reaching forwards and practically yanking the man of his feet and shoving him towards the wall. 

The man stumbled back, catching himself with his bare arm before he crashed face first into the rock wall. At any other time, Jesse would have asked why the guy was wearing his shirt half hanging off him, but now wasn’t really the time or the place. He turned back to the mouth of the cave, missing how the man’s frown softened at the sight of his injuries. 

“You are bleeding. Come with me—they won’t find this place.” 

And before Jesse could protest, he was being pulled backwards, further into the cave.

* * *

“Good morning, Genji-kun!”

Looking up from where he was locking, and be-spelling, his bike, Genji grinned at the group of young women just outside of the downtown area. While Hanzo rarely traveled down into the city, Genji spent as much time as possible amongst the people, to the point that he was on a first name basis with almost every waitress, shop owner, and old woman. This group consisted of Himari, a twenty-year-old hairdresser; her mother, Aoi who was in her fifties; and Kanna, an 83-year-old who still owned her family’s bakery.

All young things to him.

“I’m sorry, ladies, but I’ve got a date to keep, so I can’t stop and chat. Maybe later though, Himari-chan.” He said with a wink, before laughing as Kanna shooed him away. 

“Don’t stand them up then, you fool!” she called, waving to him as he slid easily into the crowds of people. 

Genji loved Hanamura. The people, the food, the shops and the homes…there wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t wonder what, exactly, his clan had against humans. And it wasn’t even just humans in the world either—shifters, magic users, omnics…

A smile, a beaming bright thing, graced his face as he strolled. The omnic traveller he was due to meet in an hours time had become a constant visitor in his thoughts over the last week. It had been a long time since any being, human or otherwise, had occupied so much of his attention. And although he doubted Zenyatta would agree to it, part of Genji wondered if the monk would want to stay with him in his cave, for a time.

So distracted by that thought, Genji didn’t notice the woman who stepped out onto the street from one of the traditional textile shops until he ran into her. Quite literally.

The woman fell back with a curse—he didn’t know the language but he knew her tone of voice—and the owner of the shop smiled behind his hand as Genji jumped back, startled.

“Really, Genji-kun, you must pay better attention to your surroundings! My apologizes, Vaswani-san.” Yuuto, the owner said, stepping out of the shop to help the woman up. But, before he could do so, Genji swept in, holding out his hand to her. 

The woman, Vaswani-san, looked at it like he’d just offered her a dead fish, before sniffing and holding her hand up so he could pull her to her feet. 

“Sorry, Vaswani-san. My mind was elsewhere—is there anything I could do to make it up to you?” he asked, his smile still as bright as ever. Vaswani stared at him, then pulled her prosthetic hand out of his grip. 

And that was how he found himself in Rikimaru’s with one Satya Vaswani, on a beautiful Thursday morning.

She had told him that she was looking for something half-way edible, and that she doubted she’d find anything like that in the city, so of course he had taken that as a challenge. The look she’d given him when she saw the Rikimaru sign made him snicker, and the glare she’d leveled at him as they ordered and sat made his grin widen, as if that was still possible.

“When I asked if you knew where there was good food in this city, I did not expect you to bring me to a noodle house,” she said to him, one hand fiddling with her bag strap. Before agreeing to go anywhere with him, she’d been sure to check and double-check that all her things were in order.

“But Vaswani-san, Rikimaru is the best noodles in Hanamura. Some of the legends say that their noodles are what caused the Elder Dragon to attack the Younger.” That was his favourite of the theories behind what had happened to him and Hanzo, so he’d hype it up whenever he could. Even if the reality was much more bleak, the idea that Hanzo would have nearly killed him for one bowl of ramen was something to laugh at.

Now that caught her attention. “There is more than one legend? And more than one dragon?” she shook her head, aggravated when Genji looked to her to elaborate, and waved her free hand dismissively. “I am here to look into local myth, but was only told of the green dragon.”

By the time their noodles arrived, Genji had decided that he also quite liked Satya Vaswani.

* * *

For Tekahartha Zenyatta, the past few months had been…trying. 

Leaving the Shambali, his brothers and sisters, had left him feeling empty. To leave home and be without the constant chatter and quiet conversations of the Nepalese monastery was lonely, and the immense distrust people had for him in general was disheartening.

But, with Mondatta’s attempts, talk and visits and public appearances, he was also recognized as one of the religion. That lead to some slightly awkward occurrences, much like when he’d arrived in Hanamura. 

Zenyatta had not planned on staying long—a day or two in an interesting city, nights spent in meditation in a park as was his usual plan. But then a receptionist had recognized his garb, and without extra charge, he found himself moved into a hotel for a week. Then, as he explored the city, he ran into a college student who’d showed him one of the many temples in the city, and who’d left him with the promise of more sights to be seen.

 

That was the week that Mondatta, his wonderful, idiot, older brother, was assassinated. 

 

Suddenly, those people who only wanted to talk of the Shambali were coming to him for guidance. Small memorials sprouted up, and Zenyatta avoided them like the plague. The hotel offered to move his room, and let him stay as long as possible, an offer he took them up on. People wanted to hear him talk, and he withdrew.

He was not his brother, after all, and had no desire to stand in front of a crowd and speak. 

But, a month had passed, the college student, who was named Genji, had shown him side-streets of family-run businesses and invited him to coffee and tea houses that served omnics and humans, and even if his meditation was oft troubled, Zenyatta was healing.

He was probably going to leave Hanamura soon, for he was a traveller now and not content to take up room in his hotel that others needed. But he also did not wish to leave. The people were kind—the wide-spread mistrust of the omnics seemed to have skipped the city—and there were still many sights Zenyatta had yet to see. The forested area outside of the city’s center, for one, was interesting in how the elderly seemed to worship it and the mountains.

With a hum, he pulled himself to his feet, leaving the shaded area near a small stream. It would only take him a moment to make his way to his and Genji’s meeting point, a tea house this time, and so he lingered for a moment to watch the leaves rustle in the small breeze. Back home it would be raining, fog enshrouding the mountains and making his brothers and sisters seek dry shelter within the monastery.

“Oh! Hey! Zenyatta-san!” He tilted his head to the side, and the LED markings on his faceplate lit up slightly. Genji scrambled down the dirt hill to the riverbank, a grin on his face. “Sorry—I was just on my way to the tea house when I saw you, so I figured we could walk together if you wanted?”

“Of course, it would be a more enjoyable walk to do so with a friend. How are you today, Genji-san?”

Yes, the months had been trying, and he should be leaving soon, but Zenyatta found it hard to imagine doing such a thing as the young man told him of his brother; grumpy, the woman he’d run into; also grumpy, and his plans for the day; tea with Zenyatta and maybe a hike into the mountains, if Zenyatta wanted to join him?


	2. Hanzo/Jesse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree gets some help and Hanzo gets payment

As Jesse was manhandled further into the cave by the stranger, he envisioned what his mission report would say if he never made it back to his hotel in Hanamura: _‘Agent KIA/MIA because of pure and utter stupidity.’_

He hadn’t figure out what Talon was up to, he’d went on the mountain he was supposed to avoid, he’d been shot, and he was currently being dragged into a cave by a man who didn’t seem to understand the concept of a shirt, for unknown reasons.

Normally, he’d just shove his way out of the man’s grip, but he had a hold of his serape and shirt close to the bullet hole, and the last thing he needed was to injure the area further. So instead, Jesse let the man drag him further into the cave system, and planned his escape.

The man was stronger than he looked, that was for sure, but Jesse would bet the house that he’d be able to take him down once they stopped moving. From there, once the man was incapacitated, he’d just dash back the way they’d came, bolt down the mountain, and radio home base for orders, back up, and a medic.

“We are almost there, stop fidgeting.” It was the first thing the man had said since grabbing him by the back of his shirt, and Jesse perked up a little at that. A perfect chance to start blabbing, and maybe throw the man off his game, whatever game it was he was playing.

“Well, ya’ see, I don’t quite know where ‘there’ is or why I wanna go there. So, it’d be mighty kind of you to just let me head back the way I came so I can head down the mountain and get outta your hair.” He grinned, on the offhand that the man had a second set of eyes in the back of his head, and that still wouldn’t be the strangest thing Jesse’d seen with Overwatch.

The man snorted. “You’d never find you way back if I did that. You would think the people of the city would warn you foreigners not to climb the mountain past the midway point. Or did you ignore them, thinking you knew better than them?” he yanked on Jesse’s shirt again, and he stumbled a little.

Jesse sighed, his grin fading. “I was kinda being chased, didn’t mean to intrude on your cave.” The walk was poorly illuminated, only Jesse’s better-than-human night vision and the man’s grip keeping him from stumbling over the dozens of large rocks on the ground, and he let out an audible puff of air once things started to lighten up again.

Of course, then he saw the skeletons, or what was left of them, and tensed up. “You ain’t plannin’ on eatin’ me, are ya?” He’d assumed the mountain peak was off-limits because of religious reasons, but if there was a cannibal living there…well, that’d just be another reason to keep away.

That was enough to make the man stop, and he turned to Jesse, completely baffled. “What? Why on earth—You are injured and lost on parts of the mountain you shouldn’t be on. I am going to give you something for your wounds, and see you on your way. I do _not_ eat people.”

“So, what happened to those guys then?” Jesse asked, and the man huffed, yanking on his shirt again as he began to walk again. “What, can’t a guy be curious when he’s being dragged around skeleton country?”

* * *

Not for the first time since investigating an issue with his wards, Hanzo wondered what he was doing. He’d set his book on physics down after only a few moments, the wards itching uncomfortably on his skin as someone or something repeatedly brushed up against them. If it was an animal, he’d kill and eat it, and if it was a person—human or shifter or omnic or other—he’d lead them home.

Then the wards snapped against his skin, like a rubber band, and he watched from the cave tunnel as someone darted past them. Hanzo could smell the blood, and was glad that he'd stayed in human form.

At that point he could have ignored the person—a shifter from the scent—but instead he reached out to them. Then the shifter, a man, had thrown him back against the wall! The gall. If he’d not been injured, he would have possibly attacked the man for doing so.

And again, he could have ignored the man and his injuries, but Hanzo didn’t. He’d grabbed the shifter by the shirt and pulled him along, mind on two tasks. Bandages and salve from the Witch for the shifter’s wounds, and to guide the man back down the mountain.

Then the man opened his mouth, and asked about the skeletons.

Ignoring everything else that was coming out of the shifters mouth, Hanzo practically tossed him towards the pile of blankets and clothing he used to read in.

“Stay here,” he commanded, hoping that the shifter would listen and not try to find his way out of the cave system. “I will return with supplies. Don’t bleed on my books.”

Leaving the man behind with his indignant shouting, Hanzo swiftly moved through two more rooms, mind already sure of what he’d need. A pot of the Witch’s salve, bandages, the bottle of phoenix tears that he really needed to refill…

Grumbling to himself, Hanzo stormed back to his reading nook, and was pleasantly surprised to see that the man had actually listened to him. He had pulled the ridiculous scrap of fabric off of his person and set it aside, and was gently prodding at his wound.

“Stop that,” he snapped, and the shifter stiffened, before looking over at him. “If you aggravate the wound more, it will not heal cleanly.”

 “I think it’ll heal fine, thanks,” the shifter replied, but Hanzo ignored him, moving to crouch by him.

“Take that off,” he said, motioning to the armour on the man’s body, before rolling his eyes as the shifter stiffened. “I can not assist you if you are wearing all of your clothing. Now, remove your shirts and…that thing.”

The man grumbled but mostly did as instructed, peeling off the chest piece and his long-sleeved shirt, before pulling the collar of his other shirt down so Hanzo could get to the bullet wound. He soaked the bandages in the phoenix tears, applied some of the Witch’s salve around the oozing puncture sites, and began to wrap the wound, frowning the entire time. The wound would heal within hours, if not faster with the application of the phoenix tears and salve, but Hanzo could tell that the man was still injured.

“…thanks” the shifter muttered once Hanzo sat back on his heels, and he started to re-dress himself. It was obvious that Hanzo wasn’t going to be able to get a look at the other wound, despite how obvious it was that it was causing the shifter pain.

“You are stubborn,” Hanzo said, reaching into the pile of cloths and finding a small length of what may have once been a pair of patterned pants. “Take this with you, and apply it to the injured area. You pain will ease then.” He wrapped the fabric scrap around the pot to keep the lid on, and held it out for the shifter to take. “Take it!”

* * *

So, maybe Jesse wasn’t going to die. That still didn’t explain what the hell was going on, who the man was, and what the _fuck_ he was.

He reached out and took the fabric wrapped pot wearily, shoving it into one of his depleted ammo pouches. “Thanks,” he said, narrowing his eyes as the other man stood. “What do ya’ want for this?” He knew better than anyone to assume that aid was given for free, especially in this circumstance.

The man snorted. “I want you off my mountain,” he replied as Jesse pulled himself to his feet. “I will lead you back to Hanamura and give you the salve…for that.”

Jesse followed the man’s finger, and nearly, _nearly_ objected. Of everything and anything he could ask for, and he wanted Jesse’s serape.

“Fine, it’s yours.” So, maybe he was a little snappy, but it was his favourite serape!

Adjusting his chest plate again—had the man really not known what it was? How long had he lived on the mountain?— Jesse gathered himself, and jerked his head to the side.

“So, ready to get guiding? And _what_ are you?” he asked, and the man laughed.

“Foreigners…” he shook his head as he motioned for Jesse to follow, ignoring how he bristled at the tone of voice. “Look into why the locals stay away from the peak, and that will tell you all you need to know.”

Ah. That explained some things. Jesse hadn’t been speaking Japanese—his mastery was, well, anything but—but if this was a guardian spirit then things made sense.

“Do you mind if I shift?” he asked once they were out of the cave and in the forest. From what he could tell, the Talon goons weren’t anywhere nearby, but Jesse knew he’d be happier in his coyote state. Not to mention the mountain was big, and it was always easier on his knee when he was on all fours.

“Be my guest,” the man said, stopping. “I won’t hold back then— do try and keep up.”

Shifting, for Jesse, wasn’t painful. Unlike those who’d been cursed, natural shifters were able to slide into their other skin with no issues. Even so, his bones clicked together as they changed, his things storing themselves in the personal pocket Ana Amari, rest her soul, had created for him, and not for the first time Jesse was thankful that Torbjorn was as skilled as he was at constructing prosthetics for his kind.

“A wolf?” the man said, tilting his head to the side. “No, not a wolf. Something else?”

Jesse growled and woofed, shaking his head in irritation. No, he wasn’t a damn wolf! He was a coyote, damnit. And this strange man, who smelled even stranger in this form, needed to start moving so Jesse could get back to his hotel and report back to Winston.

“Yes, yes. Follow me.”

And then the man started to run, flying across the ground, laughter echoing behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey another chapter of this! Finally!  
> I've been doing worldbuilding for this fic instead of actually working on it, so that's why it's been a while oops (And now I wanna write a whole ton of other fic in this universe)
> 
> * * *
> 
> [Personal Tumblr](http://happyleech.tumblr.com/) / [Overwatch Tumblr](http://over-swatch.tumblr.com/) / [TextsFromLastNight Overwatch Tumblr](http://textsfromwatchpointgibraltar.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Here is [the post](http://textsfromwatchpointgibraltar.tumblr.com/post/152015042268/for-the-title-thing-a-dragons-horde/) that caused this to happen. No real spoilers, but the plot/idea in the post and what I'm writing now are NOT really the same anymore
> 
> * * *
> 
> Partially beta-read by the amazing Sketchmatters/Pugnacious <3
> 
> * * *
> 
> So even though this fic is going to be shippy, there is not going to be any smut/sexual NSFW. Omnics, Humans, and Dragons do not have compatible bits, and really, it's nothing I feel comfy writing. Sorry!
> 
> * * *
> 
> In my head the guns the Talon grunts use look like modified Beretta ARX160's  
> Genji considers everyone to be younger than him, usually because they are  
> How do omnics mourn? I feel like Zen probably hasn't really dealt with how he feels after Mondatta's died...it's not like they can cry and let out stress n junk like that. Poor Zen.
> 
> * * *
> 
> [Personal Tumblr](http://happyleech.tumblr.com/) / [Overwatch Tumblr](http://over-swatch.tumblr.com/) / [TextsFromLastNight Overwatch Tumblr](http://textsfromwatchpointgibraltar.tumblr.com/)


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